Chapter 1
ONE
MARNIE
(Present day)
“Isn’t Holly about to pop any day now?” I ask Ash as I wait for him to pull a pitcher of beer.
Things have been… weird with Ash for a while now.
Well, ever since Holly and Rebel tied the knot, anyhow.
I can’t say I’m not attracted to him, because I definitely am, except he’s one of my bosses since the Steel Raiders MC owns the bar which Ash holds a position of authority in, so he’s off limits as far as I’m concerned.
The last thing I need to do is get involved with him then have it all blow up in my face.
I’ve come to love this little quirky town I chose by pointing at a map.
My bank account is healthy, since I still live in the apartment above the bar and have minimal expenses, and I finally have a best friend.
When Holly first came into the bar looking for a job, I knew she was definitely out of place, but so was I when I first arrived in town.
I took her under my wing and showed her the ropes, and she showed me what it was like to have someone to confide in.
The fact that I think her little girls are beyond precious is a whole different subject.
Mina and Ruby have helped heal the little girl inside of me that didn’t get to watch Disney movies or run and play on the swing set at the park.
I had the best mom in the world, but she had to work two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads and food in the fridge, so there wasn’t a lot of time for fun because I tried to help by keeping the house clean.
While Holly’s grandparents often watch the girls, I’ve also babysat them countless times.
Seeing Holly and Rebel’s love story play out in real time was something and it made me believe there are good guys out there after all.
“She’s getting close,” he replies, setting the pitcher and four frosty mugs on the tray as his eyes gaze around the bar. “Busy tonight,” he muses.
“Always is once the kids go back to school. Next thing you know, it’ll be Halloween,” I say before heading to the table in the back to deliver the drinks. Several regulars raise their hands and I nod to let them know I saw them, and I’ll take care of them on my way back through.
Several years of experience has me avoiding Mr. Grabby Hands as I set the pitcher and mugs in the middle of the table. “Do y’all want to run a tab or pay as you go?” I ask the guy who placed the original order.
Right now, I’m grateful that the only ‘uniform’ I wear, per se, is the T-shirt that has the bar’s logo on it, because Mr. GH just ran his hand up the back of my exposed thigh from these short shorts that I wear due to the heat while I was waiting for his friend to tell me what they’re doing with regard to the bill.
Adeptly, I step away from his roaming hands even as he asks, “So, sweetheart, what time do you get off? Maybe we can hang out and have a little fun.”
Yeah, that would be a hell no, fucker. Five years in this place has taught me better than to think my Prince Charming would be with his buddies on a Tuesday night drinking.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se, because their tips help pay my bills, but there’s something kind of skeevy about his attention and I’ve learned to pay attention to my gut since it’s the only Yoda I have.
Prophet, the club’s enforcer and our bouncer, steps up to the table and glares down at the jerk.
“She’s got plans after work and they won’t include you.
” He then looks at the guy who initially ordered and said, “It’s not hard to decide if you’re paying now or running a tab.
She’s got other tables to tend to so if you don’t make up your mind, then it’ll be on a pitcher-by-pitcher basis.
Marnie, your other customers are waiting. ”
I bite back a grin because I can hear the men at the table start to bitch at Prophet as I walk away.
They’re definitely not from around here, otherwise, they’d know that this is a biker-run bar and what any of the men wearing cuts says is gospel.
It’s probably why we don’t get a lot of out-of-towners here.
I stop by a few of the tables to check on them and pull the empties, then hurry back to the side of the bar where waitresses wait to get their drinks.
“Gonna need three Buds, one Miller Lite, and a draft of the house brew,” I rattle off to Ash, ticking each one off against the regular who ordered it.
When I don’t hear Ash say anything, I glance up at him to see his attention is focused on the table that Prophet’s still standing at, a glower fixed on his face as he watches the four men gesticulating.
“Ash?” I prod, trying to bring his attention back to me. “Drinks?”
He mutters something under his breath then quickly grabs the bottles, popping the caps and setting them on my tray before he draws the beer. “Stay away from that table,” he demands.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because they’re not staying,” Prophet advises, walking up and dropping three twenties on my tray.
“That should cover the pitcher and the tip.” With brows raised, I hand Ash the money needed to cover the pitcher as I watch the four men storm from the bar, their pitcher still sitting untouched on the table.
Nodding, I grab my tray and make my deliveries, then once I’m sure everyone’s good for a few minutes, I quickly clean off the now abandoned table so it’s ready for more customers should any come in.
I know the club has talked about possibly adding some themed nights to their repertoire, like karaoke, and possibly even charging a cover charge for the pay-per-view UFC fights since the bar is typically standing room only on those nights.
The club watches to make sure we don’t go over the maximum occupancy allotted for the size of the bar, but that way, they’re able to give those of us working those nights a little extra beyond the tips we make.
Personally, whatever brings customers in who are willing to part with their money is perfectly fine with me.
I need to start thinking about a new vehicle, and my goal is to pay for it outright since I don’t want any monthly payments.
I’ve already asked Holly if she would see if Rebel or even her grandpa would go with me when I start car shopping.
I know that dealerships often take advantage of women when they come in to buy a car without a man to back them up.
I want to have enough that once I pay for my purchase, I still have a healthy savings account.
The night wears on and I’m starting to lose the pep I had in my step when my shift started.
Hopefully, nobody notices as I begin to cash out tabs one by one as we get closer to closing time.
One of the things I like during the week is that we don’t stay open as late.
The weekends are a completely different story, but I usually have Thursday and Sunday off, then the bar is closed on Mondays for inventory and restocking.
I come down and help during those, doing a deep clean that Rebel has said I don’t need to do because we have prospects who come in to mop every night.
But… they’re guys and they don’t get that a spritz of cleaner and a swipe with a rag isn’t sufficient to clean.
So, I do it anyway. It’s not like I’m busy, for heaven’s sake.
I mean, I’ve been taking online courses forever, and still have a ways to go to complete my program.
That’s because I only take classes I’m able to pay for out of pocket.
Outside of my bank account, I have a minimal carbon footprint out there, because the last thing I want is for Pace’s brothers to ever find me.
Hopefully, this town is small enough they never will.
Not to mention, I work for a motorcycle club, and I’d like to think that they’d be a deterrent to those assholes.
I mean, I’m not part of the club, but I am an employee of a club-owned business.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I jump a mile and scream when Prophet walks over and says, “Door’s closed, Marnie.”
“Let me cash my tabs out so Ash can do the registers, then I’ll finish cleaning,” I reply as I head to the bar.
It doesn’t take me long to figure up the tabs and hand Ash the cash, before slipping ten percent into his tip jar that sits on the bar by the cash register. He glares at me, and I shrug. “What? I tip out my bartenders, Ash, even you.”
“I’m one of the brothers, Marnie. You only worry about the civilians we have bartend,” he reminds me.
“It helps me to remember, Ash. If it bothers you so much, then don’t put out a jar when you’re working,” I retort. “Otherwise, I’m giving my cut like I’m supposed to do. You can always donate it to charity or something.”
“Women,” he grumbles as he starts running the register reports. “Go on and head home, babe. The prospects are on their way, and I’ll have them clean.”
Usually, I’d push back, but tonight, I’m tired. It must be close to my period or something because I’m really dragging ass. Instead of giving him any lip, which I know he’s expecting because his brow is raised in preparation, I hand him my tray and ask, “Can you hand me my keys?”
It only took one time for me to lock myself out of the apartment upstairs before I started bringing my keys down with me and putting them behind the bar.
I also don’t enter from my apartment; instead, I go out the back then walk around to the front and come inside.
It’s another way for me to protect myself from any unwanted attention.
As it is, the inside staircase that’s next to the office is locked.
It didn’t used to be, but about three years ago, a drunk somehow got all the way up the stairs and was banging on my door.
I was actually home sick that night, which sucked because it was a Saturday, but it freaked me out when I made it to the door and looked through the peephole to see a disheveled man that I didn’t recognize.
After that, the club made some security changes.
They added a door right after the bathrooms that locks and beyond that is the bar’s office, as well as the door that goes upstairs to my apartment.
Both the office and my door are locked, then my apartment door is locked at the top of the stairs.
Not only that, but they gave me a steel reinforced door that has several deadbolts as an extra precaution.
Short of having a protection dog, I’m as safe as I can possibly be.
The fire escape is easily accessible although I pray that’s never needed.
I think that’s my biggest fear if I’m being totally honest. Fire.
One of the careers I had thought about was in the medical field, especially after the excellent care I received all those years ago, but then I realized that I wouldn’t be able to handle people who were seriously injured.
That came about when I had a new roommate during my two-week stay who had been in a house fire.
They had second and third degree burns and had to room with me because there wasn’t any room in the burn unit.
Their screams during dressing changes still haunt me.
Jingling has me snapping my head up to see my keyring bouncing in front of my nose. “There you are,” Ash chides. “Hopefully, you’re not coming down with something, Marnie. You haven’t been yourself tonight.”
“Just tired, Ash,” I murmur, taking my keys from him. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
I don’t tell him about the gut feeling that’s been getting worse. It’s probably nothing and I refuse to have him or anyone in the club think I’m a hysterical female.